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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732376">Frustrations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilylights/pseuds/lilylights'>lilylights</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But maybe not the best idea, Consensual Sex, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Its season 3, Jon is self destructive, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Probably gonna add more, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Season/Series 03, Tim is a mess, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:54:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilylights/pseuds/lilylights</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon took another gulp of whiskey before putting his glass down with a firm thunk. "You have to come back; We both know it. I can see it's already affecting you, and it will only get worse. I thought–" he paused, grasping his hands together tightly in his lap. "That it might be easier if you had a chance to... express your frustrations before you return."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Frustrations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim stalks to his front door, half-empty bottle of whiskey still in hand. Whoever was out there was persistent. He'd stubbornly ignored the first few knocks, but they just kept coming, not loud or angry, just a few determined taps every minute or so, like they knew he was there — that he could hear it — and was making clear they wouldn't be leaving until he answered.</p>
<p>He reached the door just as the sound came again, and when he jerked it open it was to find his boss at his doorstep, hand still raised halfway through a knock.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure who he expected to be there, but it certainly wasn't Jonathan fucking Sims. "What the fuck do you want?"</p>
<p>The smaller man winced at the venom in Tim's voice, and part of Tim was viciously glad of that. He'd made very clear in the last few months that Jon was the last person he was interested in seeing, and by the guilty look on his face, Jon was perfectly aware how unwelcome his presence was.</p>
<p>"Ah Tim. I was just–" It was odd to see Jon stumble over his words, unsure, like he was when he first took the Head Archivist position. Back when it was just the four of them, and Tim would tease him, trying to get under that stuffy professionalism Jon wore like a cloak. Sometimes Tim would make a game of it, see how long he could tease until Jon would turn pink and start sputtering. Martin would always roll his eyes at him after — and usually go make tea as a not-so-subtle excuse to check on Jon — but Sasha would be holding in laughter the whole time.</p>
<p>Or did she? Even after all this time it was hard to figure out which memories were of the fake Sasha, and which were gleanings of the real one.</p>
<p>The reminder of what had happened to her shook him out of his memories and back to the man in front of him. Jon was still fidgeting, not seeming to be able to get his words in order.</p>
<p>Tim didn't care why he had come, he just wanted Jon gone so he could drink himself to sleep in peace. "What. Do. You. Want." Jon flinched again, but the snarled question seemed to center his unwelcome guest as Jon took a deep breath, and looked up.</p>
<p>"You haven't been to work in a few days." He stated it firmly, but even with his head up Jon's eyes didn't meet his, instead seeming to stop around Tim's chin. Jon had never been one for eye contact, but for some reason this combined with what was said had his gut clenched in anger.</p>
<p>He stepped forwards, into the smaller man's space and tilted his head to make Jon meet his eyes. "So? What are you gonna do? Fire me?"</p>
<p>He knew he was being stubborn, staying away from work this long. He had missed 3 days and already his head was pounding all the time. Another day and he'd have to return unless he wanted to really get ill, like on his jaunt to Malaysia. But he refused to admit that, refused to let Jon see how much the separation was wearing on him.</p>
<p>Jon was meeting his eyes now, though the flickering of his gaze showed how uncomfortable he was with it. Before all this Tim had been careful with Jon, not forcing him to make eye contact, making sure Jon could see his hands before mussing up his carefully groomed hair. Tim was good at reading people and took pride in being able to make them comfortable with him.</p>
<p>Well, he used to, now Jon's obvious discomfort fuels the angry part of him that reminded him that this was Jon's fault.</p>
<p>It seemed Jon had convinced himself to continue, as he squared his shoulders and forced himself to meet his gaze.</p>
<p>"I am perfectly aware of the effects staying away will have on you and am willing to -" his jaw jumped, but he continues, "negotiate your return to work."</p>
<p>Tim looked Jon up and down, taking him all in for the first time since he opened the door. The man looked disheveled, his collar open and uneven in a way the old Jon would never have allowed. His hair was slightly damp from the mists that covered London this time of year, and his good hand was clutching at the strap of his worn-out messenger bag. His other hand, the one with the burn he had never explained, was tightening methodically around the hem of his large coat. His clothes had always been loose, but they had gone from hiding his form to hanging off him in a way that showed how much weight he lost in the last year or so. Between that and all the new scars, he looked so different from the awkward boss Tim had teased and poked at.</p>
<p>Then again, Jon wasn't the only one who had changed, and the circular scars scattered across his body just reminded Tim of the ones on his own. His anger surged again, and he thought about slamming the door in Jon's face. But he knew that even if he drank until he passed out, which he had been planning on, he would not be able to stay away from the Archives another day. The tug in his gut was too strong, the pain in his head getting too sharp.</p>
<p>Although his headache seemed to have retreated a bit now. Rather than relieve him, the realization made him want to snarl. That his boss is so far from human that just his presence was enough to soothe the withdrawal of avoiding the Magnus Institute.</p>
<p>Jon was still looking at him cautiously, not pushing but the set of his jaw showed he was not planning on backing down.</p>
<p>"Fine." Tim told himself he was doing this because he wanted to see Jon squirm. That if he had to go back he might as well make Jon work for it. That it had nothing to do with how nice it was to not hear the pounding in his head grow stronger every hour he stayed away. "Fine. Come in then."</p>
<p>He turned and walked back towards the kitchen, didn't bother to look and make sure Jon was following. Either he would or he wouldn't, and Tim honestly couldn't give a damn either way.</p>
<p>But as he arrived in the kitchen to grab the glass he had taken out before being interrupted, he heard the thump of his door closing, and soft steps in the hall. The creak of the baseboard by the kitchen door told him Jon was standing there. He thought of asking if he wanted a glass but couldn't be bothered. He grabbed another one; if Jon insisted on being here he may as well drink Tim's shit whiskey.</p>
<p>With both glasses and bottle in hand, he turned away from the counter and began striding towards the door. Jon slid out of his way as he approached, allowing Tim to walk right past him into the main room. He dropped into his couch and dropped the two glasses on the table. Focusing on popping open the bottle and sloshing a heavy pour into each cup, he was only tracking Jon's movements in the periphery. Jon had hesitated at the doorway before following him in, but when Tim started to fill the second cup he walked over to sit in the chair opposite where Tim had placed himself.</p>
<p>Tim grabbed his drink and leaned back, arms draped over the back of the cushions and eyes narrowing as he watched his guest. Jon rarely drank and was always very cautious the few times they had convinced him to join them, so when Jon took his drink and immediately downed half of it Tim was thrown off for a second. He knew a wish for liquid courage when he saw one, and began to wonder what Jon had meant by "negotiating" his return.</p>
<p>He took a sizable sip of his own, enjoying the sharp burn as it first hit his tongue. He gave it a moment to sink in, then turned back to Jon. "So talk. Why did you come here? Or did Elias send you, since you're his obedient little dog now? You can tell the bastard he can shove his threats, I heard him the first time and I. Don't. Care."</p>
<p>Jon seemed confused for a moment, starting to say "Wait, did Elias threaten–" But cut himself off. Probably in response to Tim tensing at the threat of a question. Jon bit his lip hard for a moment, before continuing. "That is to say, no. I came here of my own volition, and I've no interest in threatening you."</p>
<p>"Then why." Tim had relaxed his muscles when Jon cut off his question but still eyed him attentively with angry caution. He continued in a flat voice, "If you aren't here to threaten me how do you plan to make me go back."</p>
<p>Jon took another gulp of whiskey before putting his glass down with a firm thunk. "You have to come back; We both know it. I can see it's already affecting you, and it will only get worse. I thought–" he paused, grasping his hands together tightly in his lap. "That it might be easier if you had a chance to... express your frustrations before you return."</p>
<p>Tim leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees with the glass hanging between, the look on Jon's face made clear what he was suggesting, offering? It had been a long time since he had looked at Jon in that context, but he was not opposed. The few times he messed around with Jon in the past, back before the world had gone to hell, they had only gotten to heavy makeouts, and once a rushed handjob in a supply cupboard. Back then he was kind, and happy to go at Jon's pace and not push for anything, but even then he had fantasized about taking Jon apart. Those little moments when Jon lost some of his careful control and began to fall apart were gorgeous, and Tim knew immediately he wanted to fuck Jon until he begged, to make him come until he was shaking apart in Tim's hands.</p>
<p>But then Martin had moved into the archive, and the worms, and Jane Prentiss attacking and Sasha and–</p>
<p>And Jon. It all happened because of Jon, and he had the nerve to accuse them of murder, to stalk them and shut them out and he didn't even notice that Sasha was gone.</p>
<p>He let that anger fill him and looked up with a sharp gaze. "Are you volunteering?" Because fuck it. His whole life had gone to shit and for once Jon was right, it would be satisfying to express his frustrations. He may have to go back to that hell hole tomorrow, but at least he'd have the consolation of watching Jon limp through the office, trying to hide how thoroughly he'd been screwed the night before.</p>
<p>Jon squared his shoulders and looked at Tim, a flare of what looked like a challenge in his eyes. "Yes."</p>
<p>Tim blew a breath through his teeth, looking over the scrawny man. He was hardly conventionally attractive: too thin and sharp, with unflattering cardigans doing as much to make him look older than he was as the early gray streaks in his hair. But Tim had never cared much about looks. The stubborn chin mixed with the challenging look in his eyes made Tim flush with the thought of making him beg.</p>
<p>"Get over here. On your knees." It was partially a test, to see if Jon was going to obey. And he did. He looked almost graceful as he rose from his chair and walked to stand in front of the sofa. He seemed to hesitate for a second, before slowly lowering himself to his knees between Tim's feet.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Tim was already feeling himself stir in his trousers. He lifted himself just far enough to shove them and his pants down to his ankles, before casually kicking them to the side. He left his legs spread open, knowing he had nothing to be ashamed of. Jon began to lean forwards before glancing up at him, eyes asking permission. Tim raised a derisive eyebrow, "Go on then." He settles back, making clear he was planning to watch the show.</p>
<p>Jon's eyes flicked back down, and he lowered his head until his lips were just a hair's breadth from Tim's cock. He exhaled a warm breath over it, causing Tim to shiver, before tentatively sliding his mouth over the exposed head.</p>
<p>Tim hissed. It had been a while since he had gone out for a shag, not exactly having been in the mood to hunt down a hookup recently, and watching his boss start to gently suck him – cheeks hollowing slightly as he let the head gently rub over his tongue – It was hotter than it probably should be. For a while, he let Jon continue without interference. The archivist seemed to approach giving head the way he did everything else: with determination and obvious curiosity. His tongue would dart over different areas, noting how Tim's muscles jerked when he teased along the underside, the hiss he made when Jon's tongue flicked over the leaking tip, or how his cock twitched involuntarily when accidentally grazed with sharp teeth.</p>
<p>At a particularly hard suck, Tim's hips jerked forwards and forced more of his cock in. It seemed to have caught Jon off guard as he jerked back and started coughing when Tim knocked against the back of his throat. His eyes looked a bit bright when he looked up, and Tim raised a mocking eyebrow. "Too much for you, boss."</p>
<p>Jon narrowed his eyes but didn't answer, just leaning back in and enveloping him again in the wet warmth of his mouth. Tim swore and fucked forwards again. Jon stayed on him, eyes watering slightly but not gagging this time. He started bobbing his head up and down, slowly going deeper until it grazed the back of his throat with each stroke. He looked up at Tim challengingly, but Tim was focused on the streaks of tears dripping from his dark eyes.</p>
<p>Tim growled and finally moved his arms from where they had been thrown over the back of the couch. He reached forwards to tangle his fingers in graying curls, guiding Jon's mouth up and down his cock. Just as Jon had settled into the rhythm, Tim tightened his grip and thrust forwards, forcing the head of his cock into Jon's tight throat. He held him there for a moment, grunting at the feeling of it fluttering around him as Jon started to gag, before letting Jon jerk back. Jon gasped for a few moments, obviously fighting back his gag reflex as he glared up at Tim, but didn't protest when the hand still in his hair pulled him back down.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth and let Tim guide his motion, rubbing the vein on the bottom with his tongue as Tim fucked his mouth with jerky movements.</p>
<p>"Fuck, should have known there was a better use for that mouth. All this time I wanted you to shut up, and I could have just stuck my cock in you instead. If only I'd known you were such a slut, I could have had you sucking me off under the desk whenever you thought of doing something stupid." He thrust forward hard as he imagined it, just pushing Jon under the desk and fucking his mouth. As his cock again slid into Jon's throat he groaned in earnest, fingers tightening to keep him from pulling away. Jon managed to fight back his gag reflex for a moment but as Tim pushed a little deeper he began to choke, mouth hot and tight, and another groan was forced out of Tim as Jon's throat convulsed around his cock. Only when Jon started slapping his leg did he pull back.</p>
<p>Jon looked wrecked, tears dripping down his face and a line of drool on his chin as he coughed and gagged. His eyes were red under his knocked askew glasses. When he recovered enough to breath he raised his hand up to drag it across his mouth, then said scathingly, "Is that all then? All the things I've done and that's it? I thought you were going to punish me; or has all this moping made you go soft? I killed Sasha, and the best you can do is–"</p>
<p>"Shut up!" Tim had jerked him up so forcefully that Jon's hands immediately jumped up to grab at his wrist, tugging as Tim jerked him towards his face. "Shut the fuck up. You don't get to talk about her. You keep your slimy words away from her, or I'll make you." Tim had pulled him so high that his whole body was bent back, looking up at Tim with tears and drool still streaking his face, but Jon just glared directly towards him and spit out three words.</p>
<p>"Then make me."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fill for Rusty Quill Kink Meme:</p>
<p>"They both want it rough, for very different reasons - Tim still focuses his anger on Jon; Jon feels deeply guilty for everything that Tim has been through. Tim is not aware of Jon's motivations, (at least not until after.)"</p>
<p>Wasn't gonna post this here but now I'm feeling like continuing it... So I guess if you wanna see another chapter kudos or comment, even if it's just "yes". </p>
<p>Also I don't write much porn like ever so feel free to leave an honest review. Or if there's anything anyone wants to see~~~</p></blockquote></div></div>
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